The Art of Losing
by HurtComfortInSpace
Summary: The Doctor has embraced a peaceful life on Earth like many of his old crewmates when Seven shows up with horrible injuries. She's picked up a terrible habit of rescuing those in need, and she's not willing to give it up. Begins five years after Voyager returns home from the Delta Quadrant, before Picard starts. Doctor and Seven friendship. (SPOILERS FOR PICARD ep. 5.)
1. Chapter 1

"You should be fine, Ms Habersburg. Continue to administer the medication I gave you each morning, in 15ml doses, and book an appointment to see me during next Tuesday's surgery."

The Doctor smiled as he clicked off his screen, and eased back in his chair, basking in the last rays of the day's sun that were streaming into his office. Clara Habersburg was a sweet woman, and it was good to see her finally recovering from that Rigallian flu. A nice way to finish his working day.

There were so many illnesses called flus now. Most of them weren't remotely genetically related. Starfleet Medical or some other authority of the Federation's really should work out a more precise way of naming them.

_Of course_, he mused as he got up and crossed to his cabinet, ready to start dispensing for the next day's patients. _If I was more inclined to take an _active_ role in improving things, that consultancy post is probably still open_.

It had been five years since they returned from the delta quadrant, and though Starfleet was still shying away from officially declaring him an independent lifeform, they had given into Admiral Janeway's insistence that he at least be treated like one. And they were certainly still keen to get him on board and take advantage of his unusual experiences and expertise.

_Not to mention, they'd probably find it useful to have a consultant who never slept_.

But after a brief stint in a pointlessly classified, overly officious research outpost a few months after their return, he'd realised he was more or less happy to stay away from the inner workings of Starfleet. Too many politics, too many egos interfering with the simple duty of making people well. So he'd returned to Earth and taken a post as a GP in a quiet community just outside San Francisco. His cases tended towards the stuffy-nose-and-tennis-elbow variety, but it was something of a relief to just administer hyposprays, offer reassurance, and bribe nervous children with sweets when their parents bought them in for vaccinations. No more friends' lives hanging in the balance. No more being surrounded by the cloying stench of blood and—

The Doctor took a deep breath. He didn't suffer from anxiety or PTSD being a hologram. And breathing was technically unnecessary. But his memory subroutines did seem to focus unduly on unpleasant recollections some days. The sensation of breathing, however manufactured, was a good way to circumvent them and return to the present.

He opened the cabinet. Fifteen in-surgery appts tomorrow, and eight of those would require further medication. Now where had he put his niplotrozine—

A familiar whine sounded, right behind him.

He spun, hand grasping for a phaser that wasn't there, that had rarely been there, even on Voyager. Instead he grabbed his tricorder, ready—insanely—to throw it at the now-solid intruder.

But they flinched and raised their hands, or one of them anyway. The right arm hung slack at their side.

"Doctor?"

He blinked, and a dozen memory subroutines fired in unison as he said, "Seven?"


	2. Chapter 2

BIG spoilers for Picard, episode five: Stardust City Rag. And wow, what a heartwringer that was. This chapter is a series of flashbacks before getting back to the moment of the last chapter. Feedback welcome!

* * *

_"You know," the Doctor commented, as he ran a tricorder over Seven's shoulder clamp, finishing off her check-up. "There are other people who could help keep peace in the neutral zone. You've earned a break from heroics."_

_She gave him a wry smile. "Ex-neutral zone. And I'll miss you too, Doctor."_

_"You're all heart." But it was nice to see a spark in her eye again. Her last few visits have been spent raging about the Federation's heart-breaking decision to abandon the evacuation, and their new, disturbing rules regarding synthetic lifeforms. Luckily Voyager's arrival was still too recent in the public mind for anyone to risk a public attack on him, or Seven, and Icheb was on his first starship assignment, fresh out of the academy. But some of the Doctor's patients had been jumpier than usual recently, and five had transferred to other physicians._

Good riddance. _If they couldn't tell the difference between some androids with limited AI who were probably programmed to murder, and a hologram as charming as himself, then they didn't deserve his skills._

_"Well if you are going to run off to Fenris of all places, then you'll need to manage your own check-ups for a while. I'm happy to help via the com if you have any serious issues, but at this point—"_

_"I'm quite capable of caring for myself." She finished, hopping down from the biobed. "You've taught me well."_

_"Humph. If I'd taught you well, you wouldn't be running off to the most chaotic part of the Alpha Quadrant to play security. Didn't you have enough excitement in the Delta Quadrant? Finally we get home and you have a good post, advancing the field of astrometrics to hitherto unknown levels, and you decide to throw it all in and run away with a bunch of ex-Marquis, vigilantes, bleeding hearts, and wannabe heroes." He put down his tricorder. "Honestly the only surprise is that B'Elanna's not going with you."_

_She laughed. "B'Elanna has a five year old daughter and is currently supervising trainees as they overhaul warp cores in California. I believe her 'rebel days' are over."_

_He shook his head. "Kahless save us when B'Elanna Torres is the one living a peaceful life." Opening one of the countless cupboards in his surgery, he withdrew a small metal case and held it out to her. "For the road. I've included several microfilaments, a tricorder programmed to detect nanite levels to 0.0004 percent, and a—"_

_Seven hugged him._

_The hug was perfectly her. Purposeful, assured, intense. Filled with unspoken vulnerabilities. Repressed hopes and fears. He wrapped his arms round her and held on for a moment, suddenly afraid for his old friend. _

I wish you'd stay.

Why do you always have to be the hero?

_But it was no good. Captain—now Admiral—Janeway was as much her mother as anyone, and no one with the Janeway spirit in their veins would be caught letting someone else save the galaxy when they could do it themselves. _

_After a minute, she gently pulled away, and took the case from him. "Thank you, Doctor." She picked up her jacket. "Icheb's ship will be docking at Earth in a few weeks. Will you—"_

_"I will corner him the second he disembarks, drag him to the transporter, and interrogate him about his life on the _USS Coleman_ over the finest tea and biscuits that North America has to offer_," _he promised._

_She smirked. "A simple visit will suffice. Goodbye, Doctor." She left his office._

_He was to wish, later, that he'd been more persuasive._

* * *

_They kept touch via the com of course. For a few weeks he heard nothing, then a few rushed messages. Apparently resources on Fenris were fewer than she'd hoped. But they were establishing themselves, making a difference. A number of smuggling operations that would have introduced dangerous drugs to a number of vulnerable populations had been stopped. Several refugees had been saved from slavers. It was a beginning._

_Two months after her departure, he received a com call late one night. Luckily, he'd never bothered to introduce sleep subroutines into his programme. _

_He tapped Accept, and the black screen switched to a blur of browns, whites, and greys, that slowly resolved into a fuzzy, but perfectly comprehensible image of Seven, cross legged on a bunk. She frowned at the monitor and tapped a few keys. The picture became a little clearer. The fuzzy background resolved into a somewhat dilapidated panel wall. Her eyes became their usual clear blue, with notable dark crescents beneath them._

_But they faded to insignificance when she smiled. "Doctor."_

_"Seven!" He sat back in his chair. "How are you? You look— where are you?"_

_She raised an eyebrow. "In our compound, on the Eastern continent. I am well, thank you. And yourself, Doctor?"_

_"Oh, I'm fine." It could almost be one of their old social lessons. "Long time, no speak. What have you been doing?"_

_"I apologize for my silence. Establishing reliable communications outside this sector has been challenging. Most of the old satellite posts have been destroyed or have fallen into disrepair. We are working on it. And on many other things. It is . . . busy here."_

_"I'm sure."_

_She told him about a number of trips she'd taken, as they tried to re-establish a particular satellite post on a nearby moon that had previously been mined. Its tectonic plates had suffered from much instability in the years since it was abandoned, due to the poor methods used, so repairing the outpost had been dangerous. She had almost been hit by falling debris, but luckily she'd been pulled aside by an attentive co-worker. . . _

_"Fortunately, Bjayzl was paying less attention to the theta radiation interference levels affecting the satellite than I was," she finished drily. But was that…_

_"Seven, I do believe you're blushing." Now _that_ was a rare sight. _

_Her blush deepened. "I am not."_

_He raised an eyebrow. "I beg to differ. Now this colleague . . . Hazel?"_

_"Bjayzl!" She sat up a little straighter, sparks in her eyes._

_"My mistake. A friend of yours?"_

_"Yes." She folded her arms._

_"A close friend?"_

_Silence. He waited her out._

_She sighed. Somewhat dramatically. "We are . . . well acquainted. The team here is small and we all work closely together. They call me by my human name, which seems to make them less conscious of my Borg past."_

_"They call you Annika? That's wonderful. Can I—"_

_"No." But she was smiling as she said it. "Perhaps in the future. When I am more used to it."_

_"Very well." He gave a sigh of his own. "So, Bjayzl. You spend a lot of time together?"_

_"Doctor!"_

_"What?" He did his best to repress a smile. "I'm just interested. I'd like to know you have friends out there to keep you from working yourself to death."_

_Her voice softened. "Bjayzl is a good friend. You do not need to fear for me." A pause. "Bjayzl is an exceptional woman. We are . . . intimate."_

_"You're in a relationship?" This time his beam was irrepressible. "Oh Seven, that's wonderful. I'm so pleased for you." Ever since she and Chakotay had broken up, a few weeks after their return to Earth, Seven had seemed hesitant to start a new relationship, despite some valiant attempts from himself and Admiral Janeway to encourage her to try again now that she had access to a wider dating pool. "How did it happen? Was it love at first sight? Is it—"_

_"I am not going to answer such questions." The blush had intensified to deep blooms of red now. "But rest assured, our relationship is progressing satisfactorily. I find her exceptionally intelligent. And she was previously a researcher in medical cybernetics so she has no prejudices regarding my unusual physiology." A small grin touched her lips. "No prejudices at all."_

_Nearly a decade among humans, and finally she was getting the hang of suggestive jokes. He had never been so proud._

_They didn't talk much more after that. An approaching radiation storm was set to interfere with the connection. _

_"It's been so good to hear from you, Seven," he said warmly, as they wrapped up their conversation. "And I'm so proud of everything you're doing out there." If he added a little emphasis to the 'everything', no one could blame him._

_Her blush, which had faded a little, resurged briefly. "Thank you, Doctor." A smile played at the edge of her lips. "Icheb said the same."_

_"How is he?"_

_Nothing, not even a new girlfriend, could animate Seven the way a reference to Icheb could. "Excelling, as always. He is already supervising several other ensigns in their studies on Taxel Five's biosentient plant matter. The_ USS Coleman_ will dock at station 343 in two weeks, which is only a couple of days from here in a shuttle. He hopes to visit then."_

_"You can introduce him to Bjayzl."_

_She smiled, a warm, open smile, filled with hope and affection. "I hope to."_

_That was the last time he saw her smile like that for a long, long time._

* * *

_Three weeks later, Icheb was dead. Seven was in hospital, shot and beaten as she'd escaped the hellish butcher shop where her foster child had been carved up. On the orders of her lover._

_For a long time she wouldn't speak to the Doctor when he visited her. Or the admiral. Or anyone else. She wouldn't cry. When after many days she finally spoke, all she said was, "His cortical node. She didn't know that it's in my head."_

* * *

_The old Voyager crew arranged their own memorial service for Icheb. But when the Doctor went to pick Seven up from the hospital to take her there, she had already discharged herself._

_He caught up with her a few hundred metres from the transporter station, "Seven? Where are you going?"_

_She didn't stop, though her gait was stiff. "Fenris."_

_"Don't be ridiculous. Seven!" He grabbed her bag and pulled it away. She twisted, glaring at him, but he didn't relent. "You can't go back to Fenris. You're still recovering, and anyway it's Icheb's memorial service today. You need to be there. He'd want you to be there."_

_"Why?"_

_"To—to say goodbye."_

_"I said goodbye." Her eyes flashed danger, like the first crack of ice under one's foot. "I said goodbye when he was bleeding to death in my arms. When I watched him choke on his own fluids after being eviscerated. On _her _orders."_

_"So, what's what this is about. You're going after Bjayzl?"_

_"If I can."_

_"And then what?" He jerked her bag away as she attempted to grab it. "Then what, Seven? What will you do if you kill her?" _

_She glanced away, mouth set in a hard line. But amongst the fury in her eyes, there was something bright and terribly alone. "Then I will not care."_

_"Icheb wouldn't want you to—"_

_"Icheb is dead." She faced him once more, and her gaze was flint. "Annika is dead. And if I am to continue surviving, I need a purpose. A reason." A flicker in her right eye. "Revenge is all I have left." _

Oh, Seven.

_He gazed at her. His protegee. His friend. This grieving, desperate, wounded woman he cared about so deeply. _

_He didn't know how to fix her this time. _

_He handed her bag back to her. "Call me when you get back to Fenris," he said as she took it. "And remember if you ever want to come back, I'm here. You're not alone, Seven."_

_She met his eyes briefly. Her gaze said _thank you,_ perhaps, or _I'm sorry,_ or_ you don't understand.

_And then she was gone._

* * *

My heart broke for Seven on Picard this week! It felt necessary to go back and give a little backstory to the horror that did so much damage to her life, and ability to hope and trust. Let's hope she finds some healing- physical and emotional. I'm hoping to offer both her and the Doctor a little relief through this story. May diverge from canon, may not. We'll see how the series goes.


End file.
